In the orchard’s gentle embrace,
Where the sun kisses each tender leaf,
Apples dangle with a quiet grace,
Whispering stories of joy and grief.

Their skins, a palette of golden hues,
Reflect the warmth of the setting sun,
In their glow, ancient tales they muse,
Of seasons past, and days begun.

Amidst the rustling of autumn’s breath,
They sway with the rhythm of time’s gentle flow,
Cradling dreams in the silence beneath,
While the world spins soft and slow.

In their sweetness, a secret lies,
A promise of life renewed and bright,
As beneath the vast and endless skies,
They hold the essence of morning light.